Wasted Years
by aangelickitten
Summary: Oneshot. Sammy and Dean in a bar. Dean convinces Sam to have fun. A bit of an angsty Sam Rating just to be safe for some swearing


**A/N: I know it says angsty Sam, which there is, but this story doesn't focus on what's bugging Sammy. It's about what he does about his angst. Don't know where this came from. It just popped into my head one day and I decided to write it down and post it. Well, on to the disclaimer, then the fic!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural, the boys belong to the good people at Warnerbros. I also do not own the lyrics to "Wasted Years". That song is by Cold. So please don't sue cuz all you'll get is pocket lint!**

It was early October and winter was just starting to set when the brothers Winchester found themselves in yet another seedy bar on the side of one the highways that they traveled on in Podunk Ville, USA. The younger Winchester brother sat at a table near the back corner nursing the one glass of beer that he ordered while the eldest was on the other side of the bar playing darts. He had already consumed one pitcher, minus the one glass that his younger sibling had, and was now well on his way to finishing his second. He was pleasantly tipsy and was verging on annoyingly drunk, at least annoying to his baby brother.

Sam Winchester look over at his brother and realized Dean's state of drunkenness and wondered vaguely if his should confiscate the sharp pointy darts from his older brother before they ended up sticking out of something that was not a dartboard. He just sighed and stayed where he was deciding that he didn't have the energy to fight his brother for the darts in his current state. Sam was thinking about Jessica's death again. His guilt of not preventing her death weighed heavily on him and he sunk down in his chair a little more. Suddenly he downed the rest of his beer which was over half the glass and reached for Dean's second pitcher. He drained that glass after he filled it to the brim and went for a third glass. Just as he finished that one, Sam felt a large hand gently placed on his shoulder and a gruff but kind voice spoke to him.

"Whoa there, kid. Take it easy!"

Sam turned around slowly, knowing that if he turned too fast he would topple off his chair. The alcohol had hit hard and fast. He blearily blinked up at the owner of the hand in question with some suspicion mixed in. The man behind him was the typical large grizzly biker type, ragged salt and pepper beard and leather accessories included, yet there was a little softness to him. He seemed like a large teddy bear that would love and protect those dear to him but would still be able to beat the snot out of anyone who threatened said loved ones. The giant teddy bear removed his meaty paw from Sam's shoulder and smiled at him.

"I saw you over here and I just wanted to make sure that you didn't over do your drinking and hurt yourself," he explained.

"I know my limit," Sam replied, slurring just a little and narrowed his eyes even more. Teddy Bear, Sam had now dubbed him, nodded obviously not believing Sam at all.

"Yea, sure. Well, that's not only reason I came over, though," Teddy Bear continued, ignoring Sam's glare, "This may sound kinda nuts considering where we're at. But we're about to start our weekly open mic night here in a few minutes and I wanted to know if you had anything you would like to perform anything. You can do what ever you want. Don't have to worry about language or nothin'."

Sam shook his head no.

"Are you sure?" Sam shook his head in affirmation. "Alright, but if you change your mind I'll be over there by the stage. Just come over and let me know what you're going to sing and I'll let you go up. M'name's Moe, by-the-way."

Sam nodded his head for the third time and gave Moe a half smile that didn't even come close to reaching his eyes. He watched Moe walk off and start talking to the other bar patrons, most likely about open mc night.

As promised by Moe, the show started about five minutes later. Sam sat in silence listening to the different performers sing various song whether they be original works or popular famous songs. Sam had a song in mind that he could sing that fit his current mood to a tee. His problem was that he was never comfortable singing in the shower with his brother in the other room, much less singing in front of an audience. He'd sung in a couple school plays, but that was different. In the plays he was singing someone else's words, some obscure character's feelings. If he sang this song, he would be opening his heart and bearing his soul for all the biker bums in the bar and most of all, his brother to see. And that was the exact moment that the elder Winchester had grown bored of his dart game and decided that irritating the hell out of Sammy would be way more fun.

"Hey, S-Sammy," Dean slurred, grinning goofily at him. He was well beyond shnockered. "What'ca sittin' here for? Why aren't ya goin' up there to sing somethin'? Isn't that your thing?"

"No, Dean," Sam replied, and shook his head. He'd sobered up a little while sitting and listening, but still a little buzzed.

"Aw, comeon S-Sammy! Whys snot?" Dean looked at his little brother puzzled. Sam snorted at the face Dean made and shook his head yet again.

"I don't want to," he stated matter-of-factly, wishing his brother would just go away and let him brood in peace, "And quit elongaga…elonega…elon…quit making the 's' in my name so long. You sound like air escaping from a fucking tire."

Dean just laughed. "You couldn't say elongag…elognagate…" Dean said, trying to make fun of his brother but failing miserably. His face fell into an adorable pout. "Damn! I can't say it neither! Well, whatever. I'll never s-stop calling you S-Sammy!" Dean gave an evil laugh or at least what he thought sounded evil. This gave Sam an idea.

"Hey, Dean?" The brother in question, who had been watching the current performer on stage, swiveled back around to face Sam and nearly toppled off his chair. Now that he had his older brother's attention, Sam continued to speak, "If I go up there, will you quit bugging me and stop calling me Sammy?"

Dean sat deep in thought for a moment with a pained look on his face. Apparently, at this point in time it hurt for Dean to think. "S'alright. I promise I'll stop."

Sam knew for a fact that this was a promise that Dean would never be able to keep in the long run, but at least he would get some peace from his brother for one night. He rose slowly and made his way over to the corner of the make shift stage at the other end of the bar. When he reached his destination, Moe smiled at him.

"Change your mind about performing?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, my brother made me." Moe laughed.

"Alright, what's your name kid and what'cha gonna do fer us?" He moved to write Sam's name down on the piece of notebook paper that served as the program list.

"Sam, and I'm going to sing something I wrote myself. I haven't titled it yet," Sam replied, scratching the back of his head, "And I kinda need to borrow a guitar, too, please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely…" Moe teased chuckling at him and handed Sam the guitar from the stand sitting next to him, "You can borrow mine. She's in pristine condition. Be careful with her now. She's my baby." Sam snorted. Moe's warning reminded him of the warnings he would get from Dean every time his older brother let him drive his car.

"Thanks, I'll be careful," Sam assured Moe as he took the guitar from him gently. He turned towards the stage and froze. He looked back at Moe who took the hint. "Here, I'll introduce you." Moe got up on the stage and leaned into the mic.

"Alright, people," Moe announced, "We got a new comer to the stage tonight who's gonna sing us a little something he wrote himself. Give it up for Sam!" He started clapping and walked off the stage. Sam took a deep breath and walked on the stage to a smattering of applause. Not many of the bar patrons were paying attention, though Sam could hear his brother, who had moved, beer pitcher included, to a closer table, whooping and calling his name. He sat on the stool and drew the microphone closer too him. Sam looked around again and then started strumming out the intro cords to his song, then took a deep breath and opened his mouth the sing the words.

"There's a game life plays

makes you think you're everything they ever said you were

Like to take some time

Clear away everything I've planned"

Sam's voice started out slightly shaky due to nerves but soon it became clear and strong as he continued.

"Was it life I've betrayed

for the shape that I'm in

It's not hard to fail

it's not easy to win

did I drink too much

could I disappear

and there's nothing that's left but wasted years

There's nothing left but wasted years

There's nothing left but wasted years

If I could change my life

Be a simple kind of man try to do the best I can

if I could take the sides

I'd derail every path I could

I'm about to die

won't you clear away from me give me strength to fly away"

As he started into the chorus the second time, Sam's eyes were closed and he had clearly forgotten the audience was there. He was strumming and singing with all his might, pouring every ounce of his broken and bleeding soul into the song as if his very life depended on it.

"Was it life I've betrayed

for the shape that I'm in

It's not hard to fail

it's not easy to win

did I drink too much

could I disappear

and there's nothing that's left but wasted years

There's nothing left but wasted years

(there's nothing left but wasted years)

There's nothing left but wasted years"

By the time Sam reached his small guitar solo, unbeknownst to him, he held everyone in the bar captivated. Each person had paused in what they were doing and watched the tall young man sing and play his heart out.

"Was it life I've betrayed

for the shape that I'm in

It's not hard to fail

it's not easy to win

did I drink too much

could I disappear

and there's nothing that's left but wasted years

Was it life I've betrayed

(there's nothing left but wasted years)

for the shape that I'm in

(there's nothing left but wasted years)

did I drink too much

(there's nothing left but wasted years)

for those wasted years

(there's nothing left but wasted years)

Was it life I've betrayed

for the shape that I'm in

It's not hard to fail

it's not easy to win"

When the last chords of the song ended, he opened his eyes and gasped, clearly winded. There was a stunned silence filling the bar. Sam couldn't believe he had actually sung the song that he kept hidden, even from his brother, to a bunch of seedy biker men in some random bar. He blushed furiously and wanted desperately to get off the stage and out of sight. Suddenly, the bar erupted in appreciative applause with a smattering of whistles and shouts of praise. Standing up, he gave a small bow and then walked off the little stage and handed over the guitar to Moe with a small "thank you". Then he headed to Dean's table. The eldest Winchester brother greeted his younger sibling with a sincere smile and gripped his shoulder with a large hand.

"Well done, Sammy. Well done," was all Dean was able to choke out. Sam could see that he was fighting back tears. Dean held Sam's gaze, his eyes screaming "I love you, Sammy!" clearly. "That was…incredible."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam said, smiled sheepishly and looked down.

"Come on. Let's go back to the motel," Dean said. At Sam's nod, he turned and headed to the counter to pay the bill, swaying a little. Then headed for the door with his younger brother following behind him.

Once the two brothers were outside, Dean turned and tossed his keys at Sam, who caught them purely out of reflex. He looked down at what he now held in his hand and then at Dean, his unspoken question written on his face. Dean chuckled at Sam's confusion.

"You drive. I'm drunk off my ass and don't wanna wreck my baby." Sam nodded at his brother's logic and got in the driver's seat. Dean got in the passenger seat and looked at Sam after he had started the car. "Besides, after that performance, you deserve a reward."

**A/N: I know Sammy didn't really write the song he sang. It just flowed better and was a little more meaningful if I said it was by him. And the lyrics just fit perfectly with the Winchester brothers' life style. I'm also a crappy song writer which is why I didn't use a song by me. Review please!**


End file.
